


dry your smoke-stung eyes

by sleeplessmiles



Series: wilder mind [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Thunderstorms, Wolves, vague references to ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5864383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laika experiences her first thunderstorm, and Jemma sees rain for the first time since returning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dry your smoke-stung eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So hey, this is still happening!! A bit of time has passed between her returning and this installment, but I'm hoping to fill that eventually. This should be easy enough to follow, however, since it's mostly just cute niceness. 
> 
> It also hasn't had a beta read, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

 

 

Most nights since Jemma’s return have gone much the same way, to the point where she’s no longer too alarmed or vexed by the proceedings. Sleep interruptions are a given – nightmares or insomnia or some fun combination of the two. It’s not pleasant, but she’s grown used to the rhythms of it.

This night is different.

When she startles awake some time in the early hours of the morning, she isn’t being chased into consciousness by nightmarish sounds and images. She doesn’t have to blink the endless shades of blue from her vision. There doesn’t seem to be any reason for her even being awake at all, actually, and she’s just beginning to become annoyed – these meds are already messing with her sleep something terrible, but to interrupt her when she’s sleeping soundly for once? – until she notices her companion.

Until she notices Laika.

Laika tends to spend her night hours curling up with Jemma on her too-small bed - and then when _that_ inevitably becomes too uncomfortable, she shifts to the mess of blankets and cushions on the floor. Tonight, though, she’s sprawled herself across Jemma’s shins, creeping ever closer. A low whine is emitting from her throat, and her ears are flattened against her head in fear. Her chin is low to the blankets in abject misery.

That’s… not good.

‘What is it?’ Jemma asks on a murmur, her voice sluggish with sleep. Then there’s another telltale rumble in the distance, Laika burrowing closer with a whine at the sound, and the pieces slot into place in Jemma’s drowsy mind.

_Ohhh._

It’s a thunderstorm. 

Laika is afraid of the thunder.

It makes sense, really – thunder isn’t something Jemma had encountered in her entire six months (six _months_ ) on the planet, so either it’s an extremely rare occurrence there or it simply didn’t exist.

Actually, come to think of it, it didn’t even rain while she was there. Has Laika ever seen rain?

Huh. 

Sitting up more fully in bed, Jemma places both of her hands on the great wolf’s neck. Laika lifts her head at the motion, blinking sombrely at Jemma before leaning slightly into her touch.

‘It’s alright, you know,’ Jemma promises, her voice low. ‘It won’t hurt you. It’s just a weather pattern. Like that horrid sandstorm, remember?’ 

Another clap of thunder. Laika shuffles forward on her belly so that she’s now fully on top of Jemma’s legs. With a sympathetic expression, Jemma scratches at the fluff behind her dark ears. 

‘Mmm, I know. That’s thunder. The sound is actually due to the lightning strikes from the storm. It’s how you can tell how close the storm is – if the sound follows close after the lightning, it means it hasn’t had to travel as far.’

Laika inches closer in response, grumbling a little. Jemma hums.

‘What am I saying – you wouldn’t have a clue what lightning is, would you?’ 

With a disappointed sigh, Laika drops her head back to the covers. They must paint quite the picture, Jemma muses – the giant alien wolf, fearlessly springing into scuffles against other alien predators, now cuddling up to the relatively small human at the sound of thunder.

This is what her life has become, apparently.

(Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t upset her the way it probably should.) 

Oh well. Nothing for it.

‘Do you want to go outside and take a look, then?’

Laika’s head raises at the word “outside,” interest piqued despite herself, and Jemma rolls her eyes fondly.

‘Alright then, just a minute.’ She goes to peel off the covers before realising her predicament, nudging at Laika with her knees. ‘You’re going to have to move, though.’

No movement. Laika only stares back at her without a trace of remorse, tail twitching a little.

_Cheeky._

‘Laika, don’t play cute,’ Jemma warns. Huffing out a breath, Laika finally climbs off of her, taking a moment to stretch out and yawn.

After rifling around in her wardrobe for a few moments and emerging with a soft, worn cardigan (that probably belonged to Fitz at some point, judging by its size, but hey: who’s keeping score?), Jemma pads over to the door, Laika at her heels. A sudden burst of mental clarity has her checking for the time at her bedside table on the way – 3am. She bites her lower lip.

Okay. 

That’s… okay.

Storms tend to make most of her teammates restless, but 3am is a good time. It means the likelihood of anyone deciding to get out of bed for the day is quite low. The two of them won’t be disturbed. They’re pushing it, of course, but they should be fine. 

(It’s probably worrying that she knows that, but that’s a concern for another time.) 

Decided, Jemma eases the door open and steps out into the corridor. Coulson’s “keep the wolf leashed at all times” policy had been flouted in the first five minutes – first by Laika (who happily chomped through the leash) and then by Jemma, so there was never really any hope – and so instead, Jemma creeps through the darkened hallways with an untethered alien wolf by her side. Every time there’s another clap of thunder, Laika startles, pressing in closer to Jemma’s side. Eventually, Jemma puts a comforting hand on Laika's shoulder.

‘It’ll make sense in a moment. You’ll see.’

Laika noses at Jemma’s side.

‘I know, I know.’

Once they reach the side door, the one that leads out to the barely used courtyard, Jemma hesitates with a stifled yawn. She really _should_ have brought a leash, or at least a length of rope, because what if Laika spooks and bolts? That’d introduce a whole host of problems that Jemma knows she doesn’t have the mental stability - not to mention an adequate amount of sleep – to deal with presently. 

And she shudders to think of what could happen to Laika if the wrong people found her.

Turning to look at the wolf, she finds Laika’s wary eyes fixed upon her. She absently runs a hand over the patterns on her back. 

God. What is she even thinking? She trusts Laika. That’s the only consideration that should matter here.

_Well. Okay then._

Just outside the door, they’re confronted with the reality of how wild the storm truly is. The wind is a lot stronger than Jemma had realised, especially considering it appears that they’re still on the periphery of the actual storm. The rain is absolutely pelting down, too, the sight bringing Laika to a rigid halt. A gust of wind blows a bit of water into Laika’s face suddenly, and she shies away with a mild whine. 

Despite herself, Jemma starts to laugh – fondly, of course, but she’s laughing nonetheless.

‘Awww. Come here,’ she coos, gesturing for the wolf to approach. If it’s at all possible for an alien hellhound to convey disdain, that’s exactly what Laika is doing. But she pads warily towards Jemma anyway, her ears and tail lowered. When she reaches Jemma’s side again, she allows her neck to be patted for a few moments, eventually raising her ears a little more. 

Jemma smiles, all warmth.

 _Good._  

She steps towards the rain, only to have Laika whine at her side. Holding out a hand, she pets the wolf’s snout.

‘It’s just water,’ Jemma reassures her. 

Tentatively, Laika shuffles forward and reaches her nose out into the rain. It’s an enormously delicate motion for a creature of her size, and Jemma would have been surprised by it if she weren’t already used to Laika’s grace. As it is, she watches on with bated breath, anxious to see how the wolf goes with the new sensation. 

She does _not_ go well.

The second a few droplets hit her nose, Laika wrenches her head back as though stung. She blows air out on a snort, licking repeatedly at her nose, and even brings a paw up to rub at her face.

Jemma giggles softly. 

‘Good girl,’ she affirms, rubbing Laika’s shoulder. The wolf shakes herself off. ‘See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ 

Laika doesn’t seem to agree with that assessment, but at least her ears are perking up and she looks more like her normal, alert self. Or… well, almost, anyway. She still seems to be making a conscious attempt to put herself bodily between Jemma and the storm, a move that both warms Jemma’s heart and concerns her. 

‘I’m _okay,_ Laika,’ she assures her. ‘It’s very sweet of you, but I don’t need protecting. It’s alright.’

The wolf blinks seriously back at her, so Jemma gestures at the rain with her head.

‘Want to give it another go? Look, I’ll even go with you this time.’

And Laika gives a low whine, but to her credit she moves forward anyway. Smiling, Jemma gives her one more ear scratch, and then steps out into the deluge herself. It’s slow going, with Laika tensing up as the droplets hit her back and Jemma’s anxiety rising as her friend doesn’t seem to be adapting to the weather. But slowly, gradually, the muscles of Laika’s back begin to loosen, tension seeping out of them. She darts her tongue out to taste a drop, looking down at Jemma happily when she realises that it really _is_ water.

Jemma laughs. 

‘See? I told you, didn’t I?’

Laika flicks her tail at that, and although she still looks a little wary, tensing up at every distant thunderclap, she ventures away from Jemma to explore the small space. Beaming, Jemma simply watches her for a moment, enjoying the heady smell of rain and the frankly indescribable electricity in the air.

But then she becomes aware of herself, of how she’s becoming soaked in the heavy storm, and it hits her. Her eyes widen, stomach lurching. 

Oh.

_Ohhh._

She’s been so preoccupied with Laika, with helping Laika to overcome this fear, that she’d forgotten herself in the process. She’d forgotten the significance of this for _her._  

This is the first rainfall she’s experienced since returning.

 _Ohhh,_ how she’s missed this.

The centre of the storm is still a while off, so Jemma takes the opportunity to luxuriate in the rain, tipping her face heavenward and closing her eyes. Nearby, Laika is shaking her coat out pointedly, but Jemma can’t bring herself to care; not when the merciless rainfall beats down upon her face, cleansing away her drowsiness and reminding her that she is alive alive _alive._ She laughs softly, a stark contrast to the harsh sting of the raindrops against her cheeks, and spreads her arms out to catch more of the falling miracle.

God.

_Rain._

The simple pleasure of a rainstorm.

She doesn’t know how long she stands out there in the downpour. It could be minutes, or it could be hours – she loses track. All she knows is that by the time she’s interrupted, Laika is standing next to her again, wagging her tail gently as she watches her with that shrewd gaze of hers.

‘This a private party?’ comes a familiar, gruff English accent. Sure enough, Jemma squints through the rain to spot the unmistakable silhouette of Lance Hunter, lingering just outside the door with a tight smile on his face.

Whoops. 

Busted.

His tone is not at all accusing though, so the sight only makes her serene grin broader still.

‘Not at all,’ she calls back, hurrying back to the undercover section with the wolf right on her heels, shaking the water out of her thick coat as she trots along. Jemma’s just wringing some of the water out of her own hair when Laika sets her sights on Lance, tail flicking in that way it does when she’s happy and playful. She begins trotting towards him, and Jemma instantly recognises what’s about to happen. 

And why it can’t happen right now. 

‘Laika,’ Jemma chides, and the big wolf turns to look back at her, tilting her head in confusion. It’s not an unreasonable response, of course – Jemma usually delights in the way Laika simply sits on Lance whenever she deems him to be too annoying. But right now, in the dark of the night, she can see the pale quality to his face, and the pinched expression he wears. He holds himself tautly, like he’s readying for some sort of attack, and she can see the tension in him even from over here.

He could probably do without a ginormous, sodden wolf knocking him to the ground for fun.

As Laika trots somewhat despondently back to Jemma’s side, head hanging in disappointment, Jemma pins Lance with a questioning glance. 

‘The storm?’ she guesses. The grim expression on his face is all the answer she needs. He raises a hand to gesture vaguely around his head.

‘It’s a gunfire… explosion… thing.’ 

She tries to hide her sympathetic cringe at the reminder of his past, of the shit he’s dealing with himself. It’s remarkable, really, how all of these people have been so affected by trauma and yet they all keep it so tightly reined in.

(And by remarkable she does, of course, mean incredibly unhealthy, but she’s hardly one to talk here.)

‘Fair enough,’ she mutters, scratching at Laika’s wet ears. Lance takes a moment to rake his gaze over the both of them before making incredulous eye contact with her.

‘You trying to catch your death out here? You’re wet to the bone.’

She shrugs, stroking a calming hand along Laika’s side over and over again. Lance sighs.

‘It’d be a bloody shame is all, after all the hassle getting you back.’

Her lips quirk upwards at the corners. ‘I’m sure you were _so_ inconvenienced by it, Lance.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he says quietly, and something in his tone tells her to drop it.

They’re momentarily distracted by another flash of lightning, followed by a thunderclap - more rapidly, this time. She doesn’t miss the way Lance flinches ever so slightly at the sound, but she decides to allow him the dignity of some privacy. Turning her attention instead to Laika, who’s becoming increasingly agitated as the thunder strengthens in volume and intensity, she encourages the great wolf to drop by lowering to the ground herself.

‘It’s okay,’ she promises, stroking a hand down Laika’s neck. Laika meets her eyes as she settles again, muscles loosening and slackening in comfort. She curls herself around Jemma’s back like she’d done so often on the foreign planet, and so frequently since their arrival here, and waits for Jemma to sit back. For his part, Lance stands awkwardly above them for a moment before seating himself next to Jemma, albeit sitting a little forward so that he’s not leaning against Laika.

Oh.

_The big softie._

Out of solidarity, Jemma scoots forward a bit herself. 

 _There,_ she thinks. _Much better._

Hiding a secret smile, she guides Laika’s head to rest on her thigh, relieved at how easily the wolf allows herself to be guided. Then, she considers the abnormally subdued Lance. He isn’t questioning why she was standing out in the rain, just as she doesn’t question his skittishness at every thunderclap, nor his need to be _in_ the storm to convince himself that he’s actually here.

It’s… it’s awfully nice of him, actually.

So she rewards him for it.

‘It didn’t rain while I was… while I was _there_ ,’ she explains, her voice barely audible above the splatter of large raindrops onto concrete. As far as explanations go, it’s pretty piss-poor, but Lance’s eyebrows shoot upwards anyway.

‘Seriously. Not at all?’ 

She smiles dryly in lieu of a verbal response. He lets out a low whistle.

‘That’s rough.’

‘Tell me about it. I would have _killed_ for a shower.’

‘You’d kill for a lot less, though,’ he points out helpfully, a slow grin on his face. Rolling her eyes, she bumps their shoulders together. 

‘Mmm. And don’t you forget it.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, love.’

There’s an impressive streak of forked lightning across the sky then, followed only seconds later by the heaviness of thunder bearing down upon them, and Laika curls herself even more securely around Jemma. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Lance. He gestures at the wolf with his chin.

‘Doesn’t like storms either, hey?’

Jemma smooths a comforting hand over Laika’s ears. ‘That’s why we’re out here, actually. The sounds were spooking her.’

He nods, slowly, reaching over to stroke Laika’s nose. She stiffens before allowing the motion, snuffling into his hand a bit.

‘Me too, love. Me too.’

They fall into a comfortable silence then, all three of them gazing out as the storm rages on. It’s really something else, Jemma thinks, being able to simply watch the weather without being an active player within it, without being completely at the mercy of the storm. Without having to directly contemplate how to better her chances at survival. She’s always loved extreme weather patterns, ever since she was a little girl, and to be free to simply _appreciate_ them once more? 

It’s just… 

It’s really something.

‘You smell like wet dog,’ Lance observes eventually, breaking the quiet. Grinning, Jemma shoves at him.

‘Well. I don’t mean to alarm you, but there _is_ a giant wet dog sitting next to us.’

‘Wow, _really_. Didn’t notice that one. Thanks for the heads up.’

Laika makes a grumbling sound of disapproval at that. Immediately, Lance’s hands are raised in surrender. 

‘Whoa, down girl.’ He glances at Jemma, all traces of humour gone suddenly. ‘Seriously though. Thank you. For, you know. Keeping me company. All that.’

‘Didn’t do this for you, Lance,’ she informs him matter-of-factly. There’s amusement dancing in her gaze though, and she can see it reflected on his face as he huffs out a laugh.

‘Sure,’ he drawls, shaking his head. ‘Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.’

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ she says mildly.

‘Mum’s the word.’

Jemma rolls her eyes.

Typical Hunter.

In the brief silence that follows, Jemma inhales deeply to capture the smell of the rain, feeling it revitalise her and relishing in the way the rumble of the thunder sounds in concert with her hammering pulse. She’d felt the absence of human pulses so keenly on that planet, a phantom weight she could never quite shake. To have another one here with her in this quietly thunderous moment, syncopating with hers and Laika’s, means more than she suspects she can convey.

But she still has to try.

‘Lance?’ She hesitates, trying to work out the words to encompass the enormity of this – another human soul, damaged though it might be (but really, whose isn’t nowadays?), sharing in this with her after so long without it. Nothing seems truly adequate.

‘I… Thank you.’

He shoots her a goofy sideways grin. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh ha, ha. You can sit on him now if you want, Laika.’

At the sound of her name, as well as the lackadaisical quality to Jemma’s tone, Laika lifts her head. Lance’s eyes widen and he points at Jemma in warning.

‘Don’t you dare.’

She grins wickedly, steering Laika in his direction and delighting in the way the wolf eagerly climbs to her feet.

_Has she been waiting this entire time for the opportunity to sit on Lance?_

‘It’s simply out of my hands, Lance. She _is_ a wild creature, after all,’ she explains calmly, voice all innocence.

‘Jemma!’ he whines, trying not to laugh as Laika knocks him gently to his back and lays across him as delicately as possible. 

‘What? She likes you.’ 

'She bloody reeks!'

Jemma tsks. 'Now you've just hurt her feelings.' Judging by the pleased expression on Laika's face, nothing could be further from the truth.

‘That's it. I rescind my heartfelt thanks,’ Lance declares loudly. ‘You hear me? I take it back.’

‘Ah-ah, no take-backs!’ she singsongs.

‘What are you, 12?’

‘Aw, you know you love me,’ she coos, looking back out at the rain. Buried beneath a whole lot of space wolf, Lance sighs.

'You're really pushing it,' he mutters. Jemma only sniggers, her chest feeling lighter than it has in days.

(As it turns out, she's alright with her sleeping pattern being broken if this is how it's done.) 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Shallows' by Daughter, which is a truly gorgeous song (and is, as most Daughter songs are, very applicable to Jemma).
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
